In His Mind
by Chaotic Chorus
Summary: Roaming the universe in his Eleventh incarnation, the Doctor is caught off guard when someone-or something-infiltrates the TARDIS. The lines of reality are torn, and he must decide what kind of man he truly is.
1. Chapter 1

_This is my very first Doctor Who story, so please be kind! I hope you enjoy, and I will try my very best to get my facts straight from the get-go._

 _*I do not own Doctor Who or any affiliated characters*_

* * *

 _BANG!_

The TARDIS jerked to the side with a sickly wheeze, sending a flummoxed Doctor soaring over the console room railing.

"No! No, no, no, not now, my beautiful box! I've actually got to be somewhere today!"

The TARDIS huffed skeptically. "Oi!" He retorted, stumbling back up the staircase and sprawling over the controls. "I don't remember you complaining when I sang you to sleep in the dust rings of Jupiter last night. Okay, not literally to sleep, but you powered down for a jot. And furthermore, you know full well I get stage fright!" His hands flew from lever to knob to crank, fingers dancing across the buttons with the finesse of a concert pianist, doing his best to soothe the savage beast, as it were. Because really, what fun was there in a tamed time machine? Well, except for right then.

A crack sounded through the air, prelude to the copious amounts of smoke that began issuing from beneath the glass floor.

"Oh, come ON! Now you're doing it on purpose!" He knew whining would get him absolutely nowhere, but he was at his wit's end. "What do you want, eh, Sexy? A little shine, a little engine oil? I know for a fact you adore that stuff, and all I'd need to do is drop down onto the nearest planet and pick up a tub or two. And I suppose I could-oh, shove it all-!"

The Doctor threw his hands up to shield his face as sparks erupted from the dash and a whatsit crashed from the ceiling onto his head. "You frightful thing! Just like a woman..." He smacked the swivel monitor out of his periphery and received a shock for his abuse. "Oh, fine!" he said sharply, "I'm sorry for the insinuation." He laid siege to the pain over his temple, rubbing circularly, while he surveyed the wiry mess of his beloved TARDIS, out of sorts and out of options. Metal coils and tubing poked out of unexpected places, looking for all the world like an industrial jungle gone haywire.

Crossing his arms defiantly over his chest, the Doctor flipped his hair out of his eyes before addressing his mistress. "I'll give you one last chance. Your navigational systems were in perfect working order until I entered the coordinates. Throw as many tantrums as you like, but I swear to you that when all is said and done, we are retrieving Clara and jettisoning off into the infinite depths of time and space, so you might as well roll over and let me be on my way."

A humming flared through the room, accompanied by theatrically flickering lights and more cheery sparks.

"Oh, that's right, scratch and claw, little kitten," the Doctor fumed. "What are you going to accomplish by stranding-"

He was abruptly cut off by the entire ship going black, a muted silence permeating the air.

"Brilliant."

Feeling his way to the staircase by memory, the Doctor cursed softly. "Of all days, why this one, eh?" His question went expectedly unanswered. "You're making me late, you know. Well, I suppose not. What sort of Time Lord lacks punctuality? A rubbish one, that's what. Then again, I suspect you'll drop me off on the wrong day. That will be just lovely, I can already see it. I'll lose the bet because of you, I will! One week of surveilance on Ganymede without interfering on Jupiter. But come on, really, talk about cruel and unusual punishment. The Jovians were practically begging for help! Marvelous race, Jovians. Thriving for thousands of years, then gone by the 24th century-"

He staggered as he reached the ground floor, expecting two more stairs. "Huh. That's different." He craned his neck and called into the blackness. "The back-up generators better be where I left them last or I'm going to put my screwdriver into some very unpleasant circuitry!" He smacked himself in the face. "Screwdriver! Oh, I am thick today." He dived into his jacket pocket, locking his fingers around the sonic wonder.

"Ah-ha-" He stopped mid-jubilation. Something was off. "What's this, now..." He gingerly pressed the button, but nothing happened. "What, no green shimmering, no gleeful buzzing? Is everything on this ship broken?" He yelled angrily.

He stretched his arm out, hoping to poke into something useful. Lucky thing about living on the TARDIS was that most things were dead useful. The way his day was going, though, he'd probably wind up with a fistful of Dalek probe.

 _Sssssssss._

An eerie hissing came from behind him. He swung sharply, pointing the screwdriver at the noise. "Fat lot of good you'll do me now," he muttered, twirling the metal stick like a baton.

He stashed it regretfully in his jacket, freezing as footsteps skittered by to his left. "Come out, you!"

He squinted reflexively, knowing that it wouldn't make a difference. "I know you're there, beastie," he whispered, then cocked his head to one side, frowning. "That might be incredibly offensive if you happen to be an intelligent lifeform. Alright, then, I know you're there...heretofore unseen sentient being. Come out, come out..."

 _Dooooctor._

Alarm shot up his spine, bristling along his neck and into his hairline. He stepped backwards involuntarily and let out a low whistle.

Someone-or something-whistled back.

The Doctor couldn't remember the last time something got in his TARDIS without his permission. It was somewhat irritating.

"Now wait just a minute," he started, pointing his finger at gods knew what. "This is a bit untoward, don't you think? Mucking about in the dark, stealing my whistles, trying to give me the jibblies. I rather think I'm not in the mood."

He strode forward a few steps, immobility driving him up a wall, when he bumped into something hard and metallic.

"What-"

He was leaning over the console controls, back on the upper floor.

Running a hand through his mop, he broke into an excited grin. "Disappearing stairs, creepy whispers, and a teleporting Doctor. Forget about being punctual, this just. Got. Interesting."


	2. Chapter 2

"Right. Well then. Still in the dark."

The Doctor spun, letting his arms swing as he pondered his next move. "Goggles!" He shouted, throwing his hands up excitedly. "Oh, yes!" He fumbled his way around the console, palming everything until his pinky brushed a strip of hard leather. "Excellent, excellent!" He whipped the strap over his head, setting his hair askew in the process. "Now, if only the switch would work..." He toggled the teeny handle near the right eyepiece. "New tech, new rules."

A brilliant flash blew through his retinas, effectively blinding him for a moment. "Son of a Slitheen, that hurts!" He shut his eyes against the blaze, waiting until it calmed itself down. After a moment, the light adjusted to an acceptable level. The Doctor carefully lifted his eyelids to see his beloved TARDIS lit up like Christmas. "They work! Oh, my gorgeous girl, you are ravishing."

The goggles were, at one point, just goggles, but after a little tinkering they'd become a fabulous new accessory. "Sonic Goggles! What a trip, I swear." He played with the settings, speeding through infrared and the like and adjusting to normal viewing. He strutted across the console deck, reveling in his newfound vision. "I wonder why these work but the Screwdriver won't. Odd." He tramped once more down the stairs to see if the noisemaker was still there, scratching at the band around his head. "I'm not altogether fond of the itching. Maybe I can turn these into sunglasses or something."

The landscape had completely changed. Everything still retained its shadowy darkness, but now there were fine white lines outlining each curve of the ship, as if someone had illustrated the world on a chalkboard. The goggles sent out a signal that captured the general shape of things and translated it into a formatted version fit to be analyzed by the Doctor's brain. Or something like that. He was a traveler, not a scientist. Well, occasional scientist. Occasional knitter, too, but that was only because he realized he could conduct electricity with the needles to make a truly nifty set of streamers out of some old antennae. He'd learned the hard way to never forget gloves.

"Ah-ha! The generators ARE where I left them. Good to know, good to know." He let his gaze sweep through the lower level, waiting to pounce upon anything that moved. He was met with silence and stillness, an awkward combination for the TARDIS. It felt as if the whole universe had gone dark, which was obviously ridiculous, but still. Something was very, very wrong, and it was time he started acting like it.

"Right then." He squared his shoulders and moved to the front door. He wanted to check something. Pulling the door open, his breath hitched in his throat, sliding back down and lodging somewhere in his midsection.

Blackness. The entryway was full of it. No stars, no dust rings, and certainly no Jupiter. The goggles didn't register anything, just a dark void. "But we haven't gone anywhere!" he exclaimed, wringing his hands characteristically. "We should still be on Ganymede, I reckon. Or maybe I don't reckon, I'm not sure. Since I'm the only one still awake around here!" he called out, hoping to appeal to the TARDIS's sense of pride. But again, the only response he received was silence. "What happened to you, old girl?" he asked the emptiness, running a hand along the door jam. He stretched his other hand forward into the void and felt his entire arm go numb.

"Aaah! No, no, no, pins and needles, pins and need-gah, that's uncomfortable!" Yanking his arm back, he danced on the spot, trying to shake himself free of the deadened feeling. "What off earth is going on?" he yelled.

 _Dooooctor._

He whipped back to the interior at hearing the ghostly call. A hazy light began to glow from the depths of the corridor leading out of the console room. Pulling off his goggles, he straightened his bowtie and swallowed back any apprehension. "Okay. Let's meet, you and I."

In the hallway, the Doctor could see that the light was a bluish grey. It wasn't coming from a central point but instead seemed to be pushing out of the walls themselves, as if the outsides of his ship was leaking inward. He dragged his hand across the cool chrome as he stepped further into the TARDIS, carefully edging along past the Med Bay and into the library.

 _Dooooctor._

Louder this time, the voice sounded like a choir. Several timbres and tones all intertwined to make one magnificently harmonized sound.

"Oh, that's lovely." The Doctor cracked a small smile, marvelling. "Break into a man's ship, I suppose a good apology is a little music."

A shape fizzled into being a few feet in front of him, static and unknowable.

 _Dooooctor. Dooctor. Doctor!_

Frantic this time, the voice seemed to be wrestling with itself, choking between urgency and mystery. The Doctor strapped his goggles back on and began flicking through frequencies. With each filter, the figure took on a different characteristic: jagged, spotty, opaque. None of them provided any clues to its identity.

 _DOCTOR!_

"Gah!" The Doctor sprang back. On the last filter, the figure had jumped directly in front of him, shooting forward faster than a blink. It flared brightly, on the verge of engulfing him. _Doctor, please._

"Who are you?" he probed, shielding himself with his hands. "What do you want? How did you get in he-" He stopped. Near the top of the figure where the head should be, a pair of eyes materialized, wide and afraid.

 _Doctor!_

He knew those eyes. He looked into them every day. He made promises to those eyes, and apparently he'd done a bad job of keeping them. He frowned, sadness seeping into his bones. He'd failed those eyes.

"Clara."

As soon as he spoke her name, the figure vanished into the ether, leaving behind one last whisper.

 _Save us._

"Clara, wait!" The Doctor lunged forward only to feel a scant tingling across his face as he passed through the last few strands of dissipating shadow.

He touched the spot on his cheek where he imagined he'd caught her hand. "Oh, my poor impossible girl. Where have you got to now?"

He paused, a giant question thudding into the forefront of his mind. "Hold the phone. Hold it just one minute. Clara…When the hell did you get here?"

As could only be expected, there was no answer. The Doctor began pacing the library. There was no precedent for this. His TARDIS wounded and all his sounding boards locked away in the past, he was one hundred percent alone. No screwdriver, no companion. He remembered a time similar to this, grappling down a bottomless pit with no idea of what he would find at the end of the rope. Now, he was trapped, without any clue of where in time and space, circling the library like a caged animal and ready to implode.

"I need perspective. And a cuppa. Ooh, and a snack." He charged out of the library in search of libations, not seeing the static cloud shimmer back into focus. It extended a long, thin stem of an arm and emitted a short rumble.

Down another corridor the Doctor raced. "I may be in denial, but I haven't met a problem that tea couldn't solve. Well, maybe not. Help, definitely. Chamomile always helps me sleep, so that has to count for something. Ooh, and Earl Grey definitely gave me a good kick start last regeneration. Maybe I'll try a good green tea this time, shake things up a bit."

He couldn't stop babbling to himself, shoving away the anxiety he felt crawling up his spine. _Not yet. Can't fall apart yet._

He rounded the door to the kitchen and came to a shuddering stop.

Lined up in order were his last six female companions: Rose, Martha, Donna, Amy, River, and Clara. They shined bright and blue, flashing in and out of view.

River smirked wickedly. "Hello, sweetie."

The Doctor's jaw creaked as it dropped open. "Please tell me you're all interfaces. Please, oh, for the love of fish custard, please tell me you're not actually here!"

They all frowned identically and started yelling at him.

"Now you listen here, raggedy man—"

"Don't make me go Bad Wolf, you—"

"I forgot you once and I'll do it again—"

The Doctor flapped his hands and collapsed against the wall. "Alright, alright, all you females, shut up!"

They quieted, adopting knowing grins and high-fiving each other. River sauntered up to him, waggling her eyebrows conspiratorially. "So what do you think, love? Too much womanhood for you to handle?" She planted a heavy kiss on his cheek, whispering as she did so, "Isn't this what you've always wanted? A crowd of adoring ladies hanging on your every word? And maybe hanging on…other parts?"

"River!" the Doctor exclaimed, shunting sideways out of her reach. "That is not—I'm not that sort of—how can you expect me to think—" For what seemed the billionth time, he froze, cocking his head to the side. "You kissed me."

"And it won't be the last time," she crowed.

"No, seriously, stop. You kissed me. And you, Amy!" He pointed at her. "You should be in New York with Rory. And Donna, how is your head not exploding? And Rose! You should be with—"

"Meta-crisis you, yeah, I know." Rose rolled her eyes. "Quit statin' the obvious, you're givin' us all headaches."

"But how are you here?" the Doctor cried incredulously. "River, you're corporeal! You touched me!" He grabbed her about the shoulders and squeezed hard.

"Doctor, there's a time and place for passion, and right now all us girls are watching," she said mischievously. "Or is that how you'd like it?"

"Stop!" he shouted, stuffing his fingers into his ears and shutting his eyes. "I don't want to think about this!"

Two small hands came to rest lightly on his own and pulled them down. He blinked his eyes open to the sight of Rose only inches from his face. All the others had gone.

"I know I'm not the only one to travel with you, but I like to think that I'm a little special."

Sighing gently, the Doctor took her in his arms. "Of course you're special. I know I couldn't say it at the time, but I—I lo—" He swallowed hard, clutching her tightly.

She laughed gently into his chest. "Still can't say it, huh?" She drew back and looked him dead in the eyes. "Do one thing for me then, Doctor."

Ignoring the obvious, forgetting the others, and choosing to live in that moment alone, he brushed her hair with his fingers and let himself lean into her.

"Anything, Rose."

Her eyes went suddenly blank and hollow, the irises dissolving into a milky white. When she parted her lips, that familiar choir song slithered out.

 _Save ussss._


	3. Chapter 3

_Thank you so much for your reviews, everyone. I'm having a magnificent time writing this all out. The story has rather taken on a life of its own, so hold on tight as it all unravels. I hope you're enjoying yourselves!_

 _*I do not own Doctor Who, etc. etc._

* * *

Within seconds of speaking, Rose shuddered out of existence, just as the figure with Clara's eyes had. The Doctor found himself once more alone, clutching at the space where he'd sworn he was just holding a warm, human body.

"I've changed my mind!" he called desperately, "I don't care if you're real, interfaces, alien shape shifters, whatever! Just come back! Rose! River?"

 _Sssssssss_.

He jammed his fingers against his palms at the noise, close to madness. "Don't start that again," he spat. "If you're going to toy with me, then I won't play." He stalked to a chair at the kitchen table, scraped it back, and sat down roughly, dislodging various table settings with his sharp movements. He faced the door, watching the edges through his goggles and waiting for any signs of movement.

Sure enough, after plenty of pouting and sullen staring, a fuzzy shape crept into the room, stopping near the Doctor's knees and casting a forlorn glow across his face. He leant forward, curiosity stitched in the lines of his brow.

"What are you?" he ventured, apprehensively ticking through his eyepiece filters again. All they seemed to do was change its appearance ever so slightly. "These things are pointless, honestly," he grumbled to himself. "Glorified night vision."

The figure morphed, twisting in on itself and flashing intermittently.

"Clara? Please, if it's you, I need you to let me in on what's happening."

A new thought occurred to him. "Is this it? Have I finally gone off the deep end? Well, as madness goes, I suppose it could be worse." He frowned, patting himself down. "But this is so painfully real! I can't be off my rocker because, okay, let's make a list. One: I am solid." He snapped his braces, wincing at the slap. "See? Pain. Solid Time Lord. Two!" He twiddled his fingers, thinking hard. "Ah! My screwdriver!" He drew it out, clicking the button to no avail. "Wouldn't this bit of genius work if I was crazy? What man goes off the deep end without his best instrument?" He shot up, watching carefully as the paradoxical shadowy light floated away from him. He sighed, growing tired of its company. "Oh, come along, then."

The Doctor strode out of the room, taking note of the figure as it dragged slowly behind him. After a moment, they were in the console room.

"Oh!" he exclaimed. "Remember when stuff was all disappearing and shifty? If I was mad, everything would be in perfect working order. No reappearing where you shouldn't, no wonky steps, no baffling void."

The figure slid next to him, forming a smoky arm that it wrapped around his own.

"Oh, hel-lo, what-" The Doctor jumped, startled by the action. "Are we friends, now? Is that what this is? Because I can find a way to toss you into that void if you mean me and my ship harm."

Hesitating briefly, the figure proceeded to waft around him, weaving in and out of his arms and strapping itself across his chest. Very slowly, the figure began to solidify, gathering shape and texture, until all at once the Doctor had his hands full with a quite wholly real Amy Pond.

"Pond?!"

"Raggedy man! It's been too long!" Tossing her fiery hair back, Amy launched herself up on her toes, flinging her hands about his neck and pulling him in for a ferocious kiss.

Too surprised to react, the Doctor froze as Amy dug her nails through his scalp, letting her lips speak without words. She ripped his goggles off, plunging them both into the dark as they clattered to the floor. It had been awhile since he'd felt such heat coursing through his body that he could not help but allow it wash over him. He was brought back to the moment when she feverishly sank her tongue into his mouth.

He pushed the rabid girl back, using much of his strength to do so. Amy was deceptively strong, the hunger evident in her eyes as she scrambled to gain her hold back. The blue light continued to pulse from the nearby corridor, illuminating the fact that they'd somehow been transported beneath the main console floor. Baffled, the Doctor returned his attention to the flustered girl in his arms.

"Amy...Am-stop!" His words stuttered out of him as she had succeeding in mentally staggering him. She'd have stolen his air if not for his reliable respiratory bypass.

"Oh, don't pretend you haven't missed me, Doctor!" Amy cooed, trying to tangle herself in his limbs. He snatched her wrists and pinned them down to her hips, anxious to keep her still.

"Blimey, Amy, that was-" He paused, taking in her flushed face and fluttering eyelids. He chastised himself, refocusing his thoughts. "Amy, I will take extraordinary measures if I have to."

She laughed heartily, eyes shining spectacularly. Oh, how he'd missed that laugh.

"Please, Doctor," she purred, "show me your...measures."

Moments later, Amy slouched upstairs against the console railing, hands tied behind her by a few strands of busted wire the TARDIS had knocked free in its previous furor. The Doctor stood admiring his work, hands on his hips and a grin plastered to his goggle-adorned face.

"There! No more fidgety girls snogging my face off. Excellent." He took a few steps back and sat against the control board, eyeing her speculatively through the chalkboard filter. She looked the same as ever, albeit with the disposition of a ravenous lion. "Long as you're here, I'm going to throw out a few questions, if you'd oblige me."

Amy sighed dejectedly, glowering at his chuffed expression. "You know, there's no need for this. I'll behave if you want me to. All you have to do is really mean it."

"How do you mean?"

She snorted. "Oh, please, Doctor, I wouldn't be here on my own if you were dead set against us knockin' knees."

The Doctor's face grew hot as if he'd suddenly sprung a rash. "Amy, we've been here before, and if I recall correctly, you decided to marry Rory."

Rolling her eyes and her head, Amy drew an exasperated breath. "Well, yeah, but do you think I would've if you'd let me jump your bones?"

"Amy, don't say such nonsense," he said, shaking his head. "And anyway, we are horribly off point! Here we are, bickering about stolen kisses when you just minutes ago materialized into the TARDIS out of nowhere, which I might add seems to be in the middle of literally nowhere. Have we dropped out of the vortex and into an infinite state of nonexistence? Couldn't tell you! What I want to know is how _you_ got here."

Amy's face lit up in excitement. "But don'cha see, Doctor. I never left!"

The Doctor blanched, not quite believing his ears. Maybe he'd make some sonic hearing aids to go along with his goggles. Perhaps a steampunk sort of theme.

"Hang on," he started, jabbing a finger in her direction. "You never what?"

Peals of laughter were escaping her mouth, causing her to double over awkwardly as she was still unceremoniously strapped to the railing.

"What, you think we wouldn't hang around?"

"We? You mean Rory is hidden away, too? Why the devil would you do that? You're not making sense, woman!"

She stopped shortly, looking him square in the eye. "We never left."

The Doctor rocketed forward, flailing his hands in frustration. "What does that mean?!" he shouted, frustration streaming out of him like blood from a fresh wound. He picked up an errant bit of tubing and flung it toward the still gaping doorway. It soundlessly slipped into the blackness, vanishing for what could reasonably be forever. "Hm. I rather hope I didn't need that."

He rounded on Amy. "Why are my goggles functioning but the screwdriver won't?"

She ran raked her gaze over his body, her mind still clearly on other pursuits. "You always rely on the screwdriver. If it worked, it would take you much longer to conjure up the idea that something was amiss." She smiled wryly. "Do you even remember constructing the goggles?"

"Of course I-" The Doctor tried to picture the precise moment he'd thrown the bits together, but the memory was foggy and incomplete. As if it had never happened.

"What the bloody hell-"

"Doctor!" Amy chided. "Swear jar, now."

He ignored her, his mind running rampant.

"We thought you'd be quicker than this."

"We?" he asked for the umpteenth time. "Do you mean you and the other women? Where are they, Amy? Why do you keep running away from me?" He inched over to her, slowly putting his hands on her shoulders. So very real. Warm skin cocooned her, shielding him from the mystery of her presence.

"You're not as smart as I remember," she remarked dryly, hitting him in his pride.

"Am too, you snarky-"

A blue light shot into the room, effectively shutting him up. Another shadowy figure crashed into him, sweeping him off his feet and carrying him to the edge of the floor. He blinked dazedly up at an elated Donna perched on his chest.

"You know, sometimes I think he's not as bright as we've always given him credit for," she called over her shoulder to Amy. "There's all the technical jargon and flying through time and space, but really, you think he'd know more about women after a thousand years."

"Tell me about it," Amy replied. "How long has he been fiddlin' in the dark with those sodding goggles? And still he hasn't figured it out."

"Really, Doctor, you need to catch up." Donna shifted her weight back, peering at him through eyes undamaged by the burden of once being the DoctorDonna. Her brain, on all accounts, should have been mushy, leaky fluid dribbling out her ears, but there she sat, perfectly unaffected.

The Doctor propped his head up with his hands, resigned to the woman straddling his torso. He supposed there were worse predicaments.

He lay there wondering at the sheer improbability. In the span of less than an hour, he'd seen six of his companions, only one from his present timeline. Each one had popped into being with the help of a blurry, incomprehensible fog, settling comfortably into the corporeal plane. He couldn't begin to imagine how they'd managed to get into the TARDIS. There was simply no reason to believe that they were, in fact, the real versions of his leading ladies, and yet there was no gap in the facade, no hint of trickery besides the strange shadows. Amy was acting a bit off, but honestly, she'd always been a bit of a wild card.

"Would you both shut up," he murmured haggardly, exhausted by the ridiculousness of his afternoon.

"Did he-?" Donna sputtered.

"Absolutely, he did." In a flare of blue, Amy's hands whipped out from behind her back. The wire remained tied to the railing as if she had passed through it somehow. The Doctor didn't particularly care. He'd decided seconds prior to just go with it all. He'd find out more than if he continued protesting.

Amy sashayed over and planted her feet by his head, leering down at him knowingly. "Like the view?"

"Honestly, Amy, if you keep acting like a slattern I'm going to start treating you like one."

Her eyes widened gleefully and she immediately stooped down to sit next to Donna. "Promise?"

The Doctor glared furiously, his quip instantly turned inside out. "Now wait a minute-"

"Nope, you said it," Amy keened, leaning down to scrape her teeth over his ear. "I'm a slattern and I deserve to be treated as such." She tugged at his bow tie, undoing the fastidiously kempt ribbon and began attacking his shirt buttons with agonizing determination.

"Amy," he warned, lifting his hands to stop her, but Donna gripped his arms and flipped over his head to weigh them down with her body.

"Oh, let her have a little fun, luv," Donna soothed as Amy continued plucking. "Tell her to stop with full sincerity and she will."

"Amy, shove off, you, or I'll-"

"Or you'll what, Doctor? Spank me?"

She'd finished with his buttons and spread the cloth apart, revealing his chest. She put her head down, listening intently to one heartbeat, then the other.

"Missed that," she said softly, nipping gently at his skin.

He inhaled sharply, the tender flesh prickling reflexively as her breath washed over his landscape. He made a split-second decision and relaxed into her, letting a deep growl escape his throat. Amy bobbed up at the noise, squinting at him as if she wasn't convinced at his abrupt acquiescence. She rushed to his lips, forcefully adhering her mouth to his.

A weight lifted from him, and he discovered his arms were free to wrap around Amy. Donna had gone, and the two of them were left to their own indecorous devices. He flipped them both over so he could press her into the floor, disregarding the hard edges of his goggles as they shoved into his eye sockets. His exposed chest rubbed uncomfortably against her clothes, and he shifted to give himself access.

Amy moaned into his mouth, eager to have him closer. The Doctor grappled with her blouse, eventually disregarding propriety and shredding the fabric. He tossed it aside and dropped his forehead to hers. Scant scraps of lace were all that separated him from her stark nakedness, and he felt the suspense building within him like a tidal wave. He closed his eyes, reveling in the audacity of what he was about to do.

 _Thud._

The Doctor blinked confusedly. He'd dropped half a foot and was gazing at an empty floor, his breath fogging up the glass.

He pushed himself up, turning round to see a blue shadow hovering behind him. A pair of eyes snapped open at the top, searing into him accusatorily.

 _We thought we meant more to you._

The Doctor ambled to his feet, hastily fastening his buttons and trying to quell the sexual tension throbbing through his veins.

"Clara? Is that you again?" He avoided looking directly into the eyes, guilt flushing through him as he groped around for his bow tie. Locating it, he tossed it around his neck, fingers flying as he jerkily put it to rights.

 _You betrayed us all._

The Doctor stiffened, the words hitting him like a meteor. "Clara, don't say that. Please don't. I never meant-"

 _It's your fault_.

"What's my fault, Clara? I don't understand."

 _I'm not Clara._

"Not Clara? But you have her eyes!"

The figure morphed, each of his companions shining through in a momentary flash.

 _I am all of them._

"All of them? But I saw all of them individually back there," he said worriedly, gesturing to the hallway leading deeper into the TARDIS.

 _I am all of them._

The Doctor shrank back as the figure expanded, engulfing half the room with its tendrils. A white hotness emanated from the center, burning his face as he struggled to get away. He circled the control panel, scrambling to put some sort of barrier between himself and the ever-increasing pillar of light. His eyes watered from the intensity, and he desperately scanned through goggle filters hoping to darken his lenses.

The figure advanced, passing through the console to corner the Doctor near the front door.

A new chorus shattered the room, a thousand voices melding in a terrible scream.

 _You have failed, Doctor. You sought to protect, but you have instead destroyed. You ventured through time and proceeded to corrupt it with your own selfishness. You dazzled and dared, capturing innocents in your carefully spun web. Even now, you stopped asking questions in the face of temptation. Your weakness has spoiled purity, and you will finally reap your just reward._

The Doctor fumbled, his back inches from the void. He was cornered, an unknowable fate behind him and an almost certain death before him. Neither was promising.

"Don't be hasty!" he appealed, stalling for time as he frantically tried to formulate a way out. "Please, this isn't necessary. Tell me what I've done! I'll sort it out, that's what I do! I'm sure there's something I could-"

 _The hour is late for apologies, Doctor. You stand alone and will answer for your cowardly crimes against virtue and beauty._

In an instant, the Doctor was enraged. This was not some incarnation of his wondrous companions. This was something entirely different, something devious and evil. Suddenly, he was no longer afraid of the emptiness.

"I am no coward. I am the Doctor!" he roared into the wall of light that threatened to swallow him. The frightening chorus grew in a massive crescendo, shaking the TARDIS with its strength. "If I am to die, then I will decide how." Tearing off his goggles and chucking them back, he crossed his arms over his sternum and smirked cockily at the blaze. "One last time, eh?" He stepped backwards, his shoulders almost level with the entryway, and winked brazenly.

"Geronimo."

And he was gone, slipping into the void as if he'd never been there to begin with.


	4. Chapter 4

_Thank you for your patience, everyone! Your reviews mean the world to me, so do let me know what you're thinking. Happy reading!_

* _I do not own Doctor Who, the TARDIS, or anything even remotely that cool._

* * *

Interminable nothingness greeted him, wrapping its silken, ethereal arms about his person in a dark embrace as if to say, "Welcome home." He knew nothing and no one, not even himself. He ceased to exist for an eternity, lost in the wilds of an unstructured non-reality, spiraling beyond the edges of all previously explored territory. Each atom of his prior being had been shredded upon sinking into the void, the pieces cast into a roaring silence like a disintegrating meteor as it falls through a fiery atmosphere.

A deep azure blueness, foreign yet familiar, burgeoned from a central point, thickening into a nebulous cloud that gradually solidified. It took on a humanoid shape, the meteoric shards joining together to reform that which never was yet had always been.

In a span of time that could never be accounted for, the Doctor sped back into the spectral plane, slamming onto a broad, flat surface. His entire system awoke with a jarring finality, his hearts sputtering online to beat with unexpected ferocity. Sweat ran from his pores in rivers, pooling beneath his splayed hands in a slick resurgence of life. He ripped his eyes open and a cock-eyed view of the world screamed into focus. He gasped violently as terror spiked through his system and alerted him of unseen danger.

Scrabbling madly, the Doctor used every vestige of available strength to pull himself upright. He staggered back, his equilibrium still sub par, and surveyed his surroundings with utter cluelessness.

"What-" His voiced quavered, the air caught in his windpipe. He swallowed thickly, his lungs still rebooting. It was a curious sensation. Rarely did he have occasion to stop and capture his breath, and in that moment he decided it was beyond atrocious.

"Right, then," he croaked, shakily attempting to straighten his bow tie. When looking for assurance, he constantly readjusted the neck piece. It remained sadly askew, evidence of how truly undone he was. He took stock of his whereabouts.

"I am not where I should be," he murmured, noting the barren room he occupied. "Then again, where should I be? I haven't the foggiest."

The Doctor stood in a lonely, naked sanctum. A dramatic cathedral ceiling stretched upwards, curving at the apex where several dim light fixtures illuminated the vastness of the space. He walked forward clumsily, his footsteps echoing with faux confidence. As he reached what could roughly be called the middle of the room, he spied a circular indentation in the floor. It spanned about ten meters in length, sloping gently in a perfect concave wave.

"Ah, yes," he said softly. "I know what this is."

He drew up at the edge, the tips of his shoes jutting out ever so slightly over the rim. He cleared his throat deliberately, shoving aside any remaining bits of insecurity. "Wake up, beautiful."

Immediately, a million streams of light pierced the air, roiling in a wonderful spectacle of confusing order. The beams shot from miniscule pinprick holes in the shallow basin, joining together to form an impossible structure. Out of the brilliance, a console appeared, intangible yet wholly functioning. It whirled on the spot, rotating to reveal an exact replication of the TARDIS's main operating system.

The Doctor waved his hand and the console spun faster, responding to his movements as if they were synchronized. He froze and it stilled, awaiting his orders like a well-trained guard dog.

The room was, in fact, his mind palace. One might think it would be ornately encumbered, brimming with artifacts, technology, and the occasional fez, but the Doctor preferred a blank slate when organizing the very essence of his being. His riotous life was a distraction in a place where what he most needed was calm. This was the one room that never changed. Despite his morphing exterior and ever-shifting tastes, his mind palace was always exactly the same.

The Doctor had not yet had cause to enter his mind palace in this body. His arrival was indicative of something vastly nefarious taking place in real time. However, he was momentarily safe, sequestered in a zone outside the confines of normal time and space.

The back-up generators of his consciousness brought him here in the most desperate of times. In other words, when his existence was nearing an end.

He gazed at the console speculatively, its brightness casting wonderfully bizarre shadows in the expansive sanctum. Raising his arms, he flattened his palms and formed a triangle where the thumbs and pointer fingers met. With acute precision, he carefully drew his hands apart. The console obliged, zooming into a single screen display that stretched the length of the basin.

"Why am I here?" he firmly asked the empty monitor.

The screen lit up in a jolly array of color, Gallifreyan circles etching themselves upon the transparent display.

"The ship is in distress?" he exclaimed worriedly. "Since when? How long have I been here?"

The circles etched faster as if sensing his urgency. The Doctor realized with immense irritation that there was no way of telling precisely how much time had passed since he was operating on an almost existential plane. However long he stayed put, the term "like clockwork" would achieve new heights of irrelevancy.

His eyebrows shot up. "What emergency shut down? I don't remember-"

His brain went blank. The Doctor struggled, but couldn't force himself to recall anything that had happened prior to waking up. A dense miasma crowded his head, clogging his memories with murky uncertainty. Whispers rushed down his spine in a waterfall of echoes. He mentally snatched at them, willing the disembodied sounds to collect in his hands where he could inspect their meaning, but they vanished like will-o-the-wisps, errant bits of static in the transmission.

"How am I supposed to solve the problem if I can't remember what the problem is?" he yelled angrily, pointing at the screen. "You're not being very forthcoming!"

An indignant beeping filled the room, showing the first sign of any stereo capabilities the console possessed. The Doctor couldn't tell where it came from, merely that it was.

"Sure, blame it on the amnesiac," he mumbled, rolling his eyes. "Can't you show me anything useful? I'm lacking in focus here. Blimey, you try to get a straight answer…"

The monitor fizzled and began flashing pictures a mile a minute. Shapes and colors melded together indiscernibly like a badly drawn flip book.

"Stop!" The Doctor put up a hand and the screen went blank. He frowned. "Is there only one speed? That's highly inconvenient."

More disgruntled beeping and writing.

"But what's the point of having you if I can't access my files? Eons of time recorded in this noggin, I'm out for the count, and you have no way of showing me what's happened? The ship is in distress, okay. Tell me about it."

The monitor came alive again, images blurring past at breakneck speed. Glowing blue light seemed to permeate many of the shots, but the Doctor couldn't be sure. He saw a brief flare of red.

"Amy," he breathed.

He hadn't seen Amy in the flesh for far too long. She lived in his memories, locked away in the portions of his brain he evaded at all costs. The past was his undoing, so naturally it was the key to his current situation.

Why wasn't the console working properly? The purpose of his mind palace was to educate: it gave the Doctor a chance to regroup. Without the console's aid, the Doctor was simply delaying the inevitable. Unfortunately, a malfunctioning console wasn't the full extent of the damage. The sanctum was an interactive corner of his mind, his own version of a mental library. If the command center was corrupted, then so was he.

The images continued playing before him, snippets of his life vanishing one after the other before he could glean anything important from them.

"I'm doomed, absolutely doomed!" the Doctor groaned, wringing his hands in frustration as he spun away. The console mirrored his actions, zooming back out and whirling in place like a technicolor disco ball. He trudged around the basin, eying the gadgetry and racked with mammoth cogitation.

"Alright," he said, coming to an abrupt stop. "If I can't remember anything, maybe I can explore this nifty palace. I mean, I cooked it up, right? There's got to be something to make the synapses fire, get the blood pumping. Oh, yes! Let's start this party already!"

He skipped slightly before breaking into a gangly jog, giddiness lighting up his face. As the walls drew closer, he saw that they were porous. Tiny holes, identical to those that dotted the basin, blanketing the entirety of the landscape in dizzying patterns. The Doctor put his hand to the wall, running his fingers gently over the stippled surface.

"Could it be-?" he asked no one in particular. In a louder voice, he called, "And how do I turn you on?"

A slight humming buzzed behind the wall, responding to his query. Heat radiated beneath his fingertips, rippling along the length of the sanctum. The humming leveled out smoothly, maintaining a single tone that encircled the Doctor.

Nothing else happened, however. The room seemed to be waiting for something more. "What, is there a password?" the Doctor yelled grumpily. "Systems on! Open Sesame! Show me the money!" He punctuated the last word with a sharp slap on the wall, but still it didn't yield. "Don't make me start singing," he threatened menacingly.

As if he'd frightened the walls into submission, light blazed eagerly out of the tiny pores, shooting forth and harshly blitzing the room. The Doctor cringed away and tried to block out the searing brightness, but it came at him from all sides like an unstoppable tidal wave. He crouched and clamped down on his ears. The humming had exploded into a reverberating assault, causing the floor to vibrate wildly. The Doctor yelped and fell sideways as everything shook, and he instinctively curled into the fetal position to wait out the mahyhem.

Above him the pyrotechnics continued, utterly consuming the emptiness. As with the basin, beams of light shined from every pinprick. This time, however, they scattered throughout the whole sanctum and left no corner untouched. The beams met in the center atop the console and impossibly joined together, forming a glowing sphere that grew with each second. Golden lattices surged across the glittering orb, cresting the curvature in coordinating patterns. Gallifreyan symbols formed, burning themselves on the surface from the inside out. They scrawled in perfect corkscrews, crackling like dying embers catching a fresh wind.

The sphere continued to enlarge until it engulfed the console and filled the basin, stretching toward the Doctor until he too was inside, a single star in an expanding galaxy. The floor rumbled so violently that a true earthquake wouldn't overshadow it.

"Dear god, I hope didn't break anything!" The Doctor's teeth rattled together when he shouted. So loud was the buzzing that he couldn't hear the words as they left his lips.

All at once, the clattering ceased, the floor stopped moving, and the light calmed to a bearable level. The Doctor squinted, bleary-eyed as if he'd just awoken from the deepest sleep. A film covered his vision, preventing him from absorbing any details of his circumstances. He tried to rub the blurriness away but he was blocked by a pair of chunky goggles. Amazed, he pulled them off as he sat up and held them inches from his nose. They were unlike anything he'd ever seen before, but recognition bloomed in his gut. He inadvertently glanced up in thought and had to whip his head around in a clumsy double-take.

"Unbelievable!" he shouted jubilantly, jumping to his feet and dropping the googles unceremoniously.

He was in the console room of the TARDIS.

Every wire, lever, and roundel was in order. The time rotor nested at the center of the ceiling, shining grandly as if he'd never left it. Which he technically hadn't.

"Astounding." The Doctor fisted his hands on his hips and walked to the switchboard, swagger returning to his gait. For the first time since entering his mind palace, he felt genuinely at ease. He was home.

And oddly enough, home didn't appear to be in any sort of danger. He leaned over the console panel, casting a critical eye on the display readouts. All functions were listed at full capacity. No atmospheric pressure disruptions, no cloister bells, no unscheduled temporal shifting.

"So why was I locked away in my head?" the Doctor wondered aloud. He plucked at a couple switches, testing the waters, and received a few telltale dings for his efforts. "So there's no problem, then? Am I losing it? Whatever _it_ is?"

"Not exactly."

The Doctor shrieked daintily, springing back as he swiveled in place.

Clara Oswald, clad in a short skirt and a grin, stood in the balcony that wrapped around the upper half of the console room. She uncrossed her arms and began walking, carelessly dragging her hand along the railing.

The Doctor watched as she moved, his eyes never leaving hers. "You ladies really need to stop doing that," he said anxiously, tugging at the cuffs of his jacket.

"Whatever do you mean, Doctor?" Clara asked coyly, advancing to the stairs.

The Doctor's brow wrinkled, unsure. "I…I don't know. I have no idea why I said that. Maybe I'm still waking up."

"Waking up from what? You've been standing there for ages. I thought you fancied a nap, but your eyes were open." Clara descended the stairs, each footfall softer than the last. Her expression was peculiar, very un-Clara. The Doctor couldn't quite identify it.

"Clara, what's going on? I don't know how I got here. I was just-" He broke off, not wanting to talk about his mind palace. "Clara, where are we?"

She laughed, an uncharacteristic trill. "On Ganymede, of course!" She'd reached the bottom of the steps, pausing momentarily. "Remember our bet?"

The Doctor shook his head, trying to cleanse himself of the cerebral soup virtually dripping out his ears. This wasn't right. Something niggled at him, a straw he grasped for but couldn't reach.

Clara started for him once more, putting one booted foot in front of the other. Hunger. That was the expression she wore. It rose from her like perfume, curling suggestively in nearly perceptible wafts.

With incredible haste, the Doctor scooted back to the opposite side of the platform. A memory burst forth, the situation eerily familiar. "Whoa, steady on. Nifty déjà vu there."

As Clara rounded the console, her eyes flared with color.

"Your eyes!" the Doctor cried, edging further away. "They turned blue!"

"Don't be ridiculous, Doctor!" Clara broke into a rapid dash, closing the distance between them in a second and a half. The Doctor barely had time to cringe before Clara crashed into him, snaking her arms around his waist. He flailed haplessly, stumbling with her momentum and sending them careening to the side. Clara caught him before they fell, tugging him upright. She fingered the chain dangling from his vest and gazed up at him from beneath her lashes.

"You know, Doctor…I've always wanted to tell you something."

He reddened, knowing exactly where she was headed. "Now, Clara, is this the time? I daresay there are more pressing issues." He swatted her hands away and she stamped her foot, lips puckering in a petulant pout.

"Doooctor!" she whined, reaching for him again.

He jolted away, another memory taking shape. "Say that again!" he commanded.

Clara raised her eyebrows. "What, your name?" A faint smirk split her face. "I can scream it if you want—"

"No! Stop it, Clara, no! Why are people always chasing me?" He bounded away, unwilling to let her gain any ground. A sharp pain splintered his forehead as an uncontrollable rush of images swept in. The world sloped sideways, and he realized he was falling. He groped for the railing and snagged it as he went down, smacking his head into the pole. More pain piled on top of the first, stars speckling his vision. "This…is…all wrong," he stuttered, grimacing as he loosened his grip.

"Shh, Doctor, everything is alright." Clara was kneeling beside him, showing tenderness and a great deal of leg.

"Get away, I'll not do this again!" The Doctor struggled to his knees and crawled forward a few feet. This couldn't be real. Clara was a proper girl. She would never act this outrageously. And his head…if the cracking wasn't enough, several of his companions had taken up residence in his already crowded thoughts, doing and saying things they had no right doing or saying. He wriggled a few more inches and felt the floor give way, tumbling down the stairs to the lower level and leaving Clara behind on the platform.

The Doctor rolled to his back, spitting as his mouth filled with warm liquid. He brushed his lips and saw a spot of crimson in the lowlight. "I think I bith ma thongue."

Ignoring the soreness spreading through his limbs, the Doctor got to his feet and limped to the compartments directly beneath the console. Neon teal light glimmered in the dusky basement space, illuminating his search as he tapped on various lids.

"Which one, which one. Don't shift on me now, I don't have time for games and whispers. Or whistles." He chose a compartment and braced in front of it. If his hunch was correct, he was seconds away from unraveling the mystery. Or killing himself.

"Dooooctor? Where did you get to?" Clara's voice drifted down the stairs as she plodded along the Doctor's prior path.

"No where you can follow!" he shouted at her, turning to see her reach the last step. "You see, you're not real. You're just a figment. A mangled construct of my own tattered brain. I have no idea of what is about to happen, but I guarantee it's not something you'll like."

Clara stayed in the shadows, prowling out of reach. "Dooooctor…" Fog gathered at her heels, sweeping toward him. Blue lightning spider-webbed through the vapor, a miniature hurricane steadily brewing.

"Not this time!" the Doctor bellowed. "I'm headed to the one place I'd never go, not in a million years. It would be the end of my existence, I think. But today, who knows? Hopefully I'll remember when I wake up. I'm getting rather bored with all the gaps. I'm a greedy Time Lord, you know. Have to know, have to explore. Well! This will be a fresh experience."

He yanked open the compartment lid and looked inside. "Blast. Scarves and smoking jackets. Not what I wanted." He dropped the lid and moved to the next one, lifting it a little less expectantly. He needn't have worried. Orange luminosity rampaged out of the deceptively large pocket of space.

"Ha!" The Doctor thrust his hands skyward, victory written all over his face. "Let's get to the heart of things, shall we?" He looked into the compartment, letting the color fill his cheeks with raw power. "Hello, Sexy. Long time."

The heart of the TARDIS pulsed firmly, fluxing joyously. Glowing tendrils lifted out of the compartment, passing through his chest like ghostly sunlight. "That's…different." All at once, he was brimming with unfiltered energy. White hot intensity coursed along his limbs and raced through the highways of his central nervous system, simultaneously concussing and invigorating him. Bronze effulgence frothed over his skin, mimicking an artist's depiction of godhood.

The Doctor had experience this feeling before, but never without trepidation. It was not unlike regenerating, only he could control the mountainous potential rather than let it reshape him. He wanted to see it all, and since it appeared he'd been allowed to survive this moment, perhaps a few more couldn't hurt. After all, this wasn't the real TARDIS. He'd finally connected some dots and it was time to add the rest and see the whole picture.

"Guess I'm going in!" he said exuberantly, sparing a final glance at the figure that used to be Clara. It was wholly obscured by the fog and seemed unable to approach any further. "Don't wait up."

The Doctor dipped his head into the compartment, letting the energy guide him forward into the shimmering, golden depths. "Geroni—" He cut off, déjà vu hitting him right between the eyes. "Do I say that too much?"

In an instant, he was gone, the lid smartly snapping shut behind him.


End file.
